In the Shadow of the Wall

by Gordon Anthony

  The other great benefit of living in the home of a wealthy man was that food was never a problem. Aquila dined with friends most evenings, either at his own house or at the homes of other knights. As a member of his family, Brude was naturally invited. Brude was surprised that Aquila played up his noble lineage, referring to his father as a tribal chieftain, but Cleon explained afterwards that Aquila was concerned that having a gladiator in the house, even a retired one, was not really socially acceptable. “Gladiators are like prostitutes or actors,” Cleon explained. “They sell themselves for the entertainment of others. Not at all what polite Romans do.”

  “It’s not as , if ad a choice,” Brude protested.

  “I know that. So does Aquila, but it’s still better if he plays that down and emphasises the fact that you are descended from kings.”

  “I never said my father was a king!” said Brude. “Anyway, I’ve told you that we reckon descent through our mothers, not our fathers.”

  “A detail which will offend most Romans so is best kept quiet,” Cleon warned him. “The truth has very little to do with how you are presented to others in Rome. You should know that by now. Who is ever going to know about your strange barbarian customs unless you tell them? There are plenty of people in Rome who go around pretending to be of higher social rank than they really are, even if it is just to get better seats at the theatre. Anyway, Appius Claudius Longinus was invited along this evening and he wouldn’t say too much about social niceties. His wife used to be his slave until he freed her so he could marry her.”

  Cleon was always full of such gossip. But whatever others may have thought in private, Brude was generally accepted and partook in all of Aquila’s leisurely pursuits. He enjoyed the theatre, where the actors, despised though they were in social circles, were usually funny and entertaining in a very crude way. He also enjoyed the circus where Aquila often went to see the chariot racing. Aquila was a devotee of the Whites, so naturally Brude had to cheer for them as well. He admired the skill of the drivers who steered their flimsy vehicles round the tight curves at the ends of the long elliptical course and galloped along the straights at incredible speed. It was exhilarating to watch and he loved being part of the crowd, listening to the shouts and the banter. If the Whites had a good day it also meant that Aquila would tend to be generous with bonuses to his freedmen and put on a more lavish spread at meal time.

  The evening meals were nothing like the ostentatious affairs that Trimalchio had overseen. They never ended in orgies, but were quiet affairs where the men discussed politics or business, or listened to a reading from the works of Virgil, Horace or some other famous poet, while the women sat patiently, only speaking if they were spoken to.

  One evening Aquila was invited to dine with the senator Varro, along with Lucius, Cleon and Brude. The freedmen sat at the foot of the long table but Brude was close enough to overhear much of the conversation from the top end. There were two or three senators present and Brude soon gathered they were discussing more than just their usual complaints about the debasement of the silver coins the emperor was minting. This evening they were talking about the death of Plautianus, the Praetorian prefect, which had caused a stir amongst the senatorial class in Rome. As commander of the Praetorian Guard, Plautianus had been close to the emperor. His daughter was even married to the emperor’s elder son, Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, universally known as Caracalla because of his habit of wearing a Gaulish style cloak over his tunic. From what Brude could hear, as he was straining his ears to catch the conversation, Caracalla had summoned Plautianus to the palace, accused him of plotting against the emperor and had him killed on the spot without trial or even giving Plautianus any chance to refute the allegations. The senators were anxious because Caracalla, who was destined to be the next emperor, was already showing signs of having a temper combined with a vicious streak, not attributes that senators looked for in an emperor. Life could become precarious with such a man in charge. The emperor’s younger son, Geta, was clearly more popular with the senators although Brude noticed that nobody actually said anything about Caracalla that could be interpreted as detrimental or derogatory. There was, though, an unspoken fear, which was plain to see. Brude recalled Curtius telling him about Pollio’s death in the arena, which Caracalla had ordered, pandering to the crowd’s blood lust. He was glad that, as a simple freedman, he would never be in a position to be close to the imperial family. Proximity to power seemed a dangerous luxury.

  Things soon died down though. The emperor and his sons went off to the east, to fight the Parthians and bring more glory, wealth and slaves to Rome, leaving life in the city to continue as it had done for centuries. Aquila ran his business affairs with Cleon’s help, while Brude trained Lucius and spent most of his spare time reading, learning Greek, wandering the streets or visiting the baths where he often paid the extra coin required by the proprietors to have sex with the female slaves. All things considered, it was an easy life and, although the memories of Broch Tava and Mairead never quite left him, he could understand why so many people who came to Rome, whether as free men or slaves who later gained their freedom, decided to stay in the city rather than return to their homelands. He told himself that he would go home one day but realised that he had already spent two years in Aquila’s home and he did not want to leave.

  He confided his worries to Cleon who clucked his tongue thoughtfully. “Well if you think this woman of yours is still waiting for you, you could always go and bring her back here,” he suggested after a few moments’ consideration.

  Brude had to admit that it was doubtful Mairead would be unmarried after all these years. “She probably thinks I’m dead,” he conceded glumly.

  “If I was a religious man,” Cleon said, “I’d suggest going to an augur to seek a prophecy but, in truth, I doubt that would do any good.”

  “You don’t believe in the gods?” Brude was surprised. The Romans were generally scrupulous in their attention to the gods. Every home had its own household gods and there was a daily ritual of pouring libations and offering prayers to them, in addition to the public prayers and sacrifices at the major temples, which many people attended. Brude realised that Cleon, though he observed the rituals, never discussed the gods nor gave any offerings. For his own part he had stopped offering any prayers to the gods of the Pritani because they seemed to have deserted him. He suspected they had no power so far from his home. For the Pritani, virtually every river and woodland had its own local god, and he was surprised the Romans had so few. But he knew from bitter experience that the Roman deities rarely answered the prayers of gladiators who were wounded or killed, no matter how generous their offerings were. Josephus had been sure his god, who he claimed was the only true god, had been looking after him, but even he had failed the little man in the end. Brude did not know which gods Cleon worshipped but he suspected it was not the pantheon of the Romans.

  “I am a follower of Epicurus,” Cleon told him when he asked.

  “Who?”

  “A very famous philosopher who lived a long time ago. His credo is the pursuit of happiness.”

  “That sounds good,” said Brude, smiling. “Most gods demand sacrifices and prayers, not happiness.”

  “I said happiness, not material wealth,” Cleon frowned.

  “Aren’t they the same thing?”

  “Don’t be foolish, Marcus. A happy man is one who is content with what he has and who does not seek to make himself unhappy by thinking about things he does not have. That is why Epicurus has few followers among the Romans. They are always hankering after more.”

  “And this fellow Epicurus says there are no gods?”

  “Of course not!” Cleon protested quickly. “That would be atheism. Anyone professing that would be a criminal. No, he simply says that the gods have no interest in what mortals do so there is no point in worshipping them for they do not listen.”

  “But I have seen you join the prayers to the household gods and to the emperor,
” Brude challenged.

  Cleon shrugged. “It is expected. I confess I am a coward and it is easier Marcus. A nform than to be seen to be different. The Romans take a dim view of people who do not worship their gods. It is mostly just following a ritual and if the gods don’t listen anyway, then it does no harm, except waste a bit of my time.”

  Brude nodded. “My own gods stopped listening to me years ago.”

  Cleon sensed he had a potential new convert. He tried to explain Epicureanism to Brude although he warned him to keep it a secret between themselves. Brude discovered why, when Cleon told him the famous riddle of Epicurus. “If you let people know too much about this,” Cleon cautioned in hushed tones, “they will accuse you of atheism and you will be a social outcast, at the very least.”

  Brude slowly read the Greek writing, translating it with some help from Cleon.

  Are the Gods willing to prevent evil, but not able?

  Then they are not omnipotent.

  Are they able but not willing?

  Then they are malevolent.

  Are they both able and willing?

  Then whence cometh evil?

  Are they neither able nor willing?

  Then why call them Gods?

  Brude looked at Cleon with a studied gaze. “This sounds like atheism to me,” he said quietly.

  “Rather call it a belief that a man should make his own way in life and be prepared to take responsibility for his own decisions without seeking to blame some invisible higher beings.”

  Brude liked that interpretation. It was a philosophy he could relate to.

  A.D. 209

  Colm had been in a good humour when he returned from his sortie against Peart. Brude stayed away from the upper village but he heard about it from Seoc, who told him that there had been a brief battle outside Peart, with three of Gartnait’s men being killed as well as one warrior from Broch Tava. Several of the Broch Tava men had returned with minor injuries but the fight had, apparently, been over quickly, for the men of Peart were badly outnumbered and Gartnait did not really want to fight. The old chieftain agreed to hand over the wagons of iron ore and to pay some compensation in the form of cattle. Colm had been overjoyed, celebrating by burning a few outlying farmsteads and seizing yet more livestock. The men returned to Broch Tava in good spirits with a whole train of cattle, goats, pigs and sheep in tow.

  To Brude, the affair sounded more like a minor skirmish than a battle but, still, four men had died to satisfy Colm’s ego and Brude was glad that he had decided to live in the lower village where Colm rarely visited. Seoc told him that Colm had been in such a good mood that he had remained fairly calm, even when he heard how Cruithne had failed to intimidate Brude. “Cruithne told him he reckoned you used magic but he had managed to persuade you to take an oath not to do anything against Colm’s wishes. Mairead backed him up and Colm seemed satisfied.”

  Brude wasn’t convinced Colm would be satisfied by that explanation for long but Seoras said, “He’ll believe it because he wants to believe it. The only other choice he has is to call you out himself. He knows that he would not win a fight with you, not if you’ve already beaten Cruithne.”

  “Maybe, but he could send a whole gang of his men to get rid of me.”

  Seoc said, “Don’t worry. I doubt many of them would relish a job like that. Not if they think you can use magic against them. I think you’re safe enough.”

  Brude was annoyed and disappointed. He had waited for so many years to return home, it was galling to find that the village could prove just as dangerous as the arena. More so, perhaps, as in the arena he at least knew exactly when and who he was fighting. Here, there was a threat of sudden attack whenever Colm felt like it. It was not a pleasant feeling and he found the constant need to stay alert wearing on his nerves. He decided not to take any unnecessary chances so he hardly ever climbed the hill to the upper village. Instead, he went back to building his house.

  He was pleasantly surprised to find that he had a lot of help. Several villagers came to lend a hand, none of them asking anything in return. “They saw what you did to Cruithne,” Seoras told him, “and they’re grateful.”

  “Or scared of you,” Fothair said under his breath, although loud enough for Brude to hear. The tall man grinned, adding, “Master.” Brude slapped him on the head for his impertinence but Fothair just laughed.

  The work on the house went quickly with so many hands to help. Gruoch the carpenter fashioned small beams, which were laid around the roof beams in horizontal circles or ring beams. More oak rafters were joined to the centre pole from the ring beams then, when it was well and truly attached to the roof frame, Gruoch took his prized saw to the centre pole, cutting it away just below where the rafters joined it. There was a cheer from the villagers as the lower part of the pole came down, carefully guided with ropes so that it hit the ground in the doorway. Brude told Gruoch he could keep the remnant of the pole because oak was not prized as firewood, being too hard to burn well.

  The next job was to thatch the roof. Here Lulach and his son took over. They carefully fitted hazel wands across the roof beams, fastening them with twine and small wooden pegs. Then they wove the bundles of reeds they had been gathering, hundreds upon hundreds of them, fastening them down with more hazel and twine. Brude asked Lulach to show him how to do the thatching and the man obliged, only to have to repair Brude’s clumsy attempts, so Brude was relegated to passing the bundles of reeds up to Lulach to fit.

  The roof took three days to complete and then they got to work on the walls. They made a mixture of clay, cow dung, straw and water, plastering it onto the wattle walls, both inside and outside. The overhanging roof gave some protection from the weather so they were able to finish the work in only two days, despite some light showers of rain. It was smelly, disgusting work but the finished result was impressive as the daub dried into place.

  Brude helped Gruoch shape and fit a proper wooden door to the entrance while Fothair found a flat slab of stone, which, with the help of several others, he laid as a threshold. Most roundhouses had two doors on opposite edges of the circular wall, but Brude decided he only wanted one door.

  The door was hung and the house was finished.

  Brude had no furniture, not even a stool, but the villagers rallied round and everyone brought something for his new home. He felt touched by their generos, telling them that he would go out hunting to try to bring back enough meat for them to have a celebration.

  He was as good as his word, although he had to borrow a couple of bows and some arrows from Seoc and after two days of trailing through the deep woodlands inland from the village it was Fothair who eventually brought down a small deer, Brude’s shot having missed by some way. “I’m better with stones,” he said. He was able to prove it on the way home by stunning a couple of hares with deftly thrown pebbles.

  The feast was the happiest night he had spent since returning to the village. Mairead and Castatin had heard about it, surprising him by coming down from the broch. “Colm is away on a hunting trip,” Mairead explained. She had brought a finely woven blanket as a gift for him. He thanked her and she smiled. He was glad to see her happy at last, even if it was for only a short time.

  His mother had made a fine fish soup and baked some bread and oatmeal pancakes. Someone else had brought some honey while there were always plenty of fish to go around. Gruoch even produced a small cask of uisge. They all crammed in to Brude’s new home, crowding round the newly lit hearth fire to help themselves to the food and drink and to wish him well.

  Castatin sat beside Brude, begging him to tell them again of the things he had seen in Rome. Brude refused at first but others asked to hear the stories as well and Mairead told him he should reward their hard work in building his house with tales of his adventures. Conceding defeat, he told them about the city of Rome and the mighty buildings made of stone and gleaming with marble. He told them of the statues, carved and painted to make them look like real people. He tol
d them of the strange creatures he had seen in the amphitheatre, the panthers, lions, giraffes, ostriches and elephants. He saw their rapt faces, drinking in every word and the scepticism when he tried to describe an elephant. The scepticism turned to utter disbelief when he told them about the bathhouses with hot floors, hot walls and steaming water to bathe in every day. “That’s what I miss the most,” he said with a smile. “The hot water and always being clean.”

  “Well, now that you’ve built this place, perhaps you should build a bathhouse next,” Fothair suggested. They all laughed, telling him that if he wanted to be clean, he should use a rain barrel like everyone else.

  “You make it sound so wonderful,” said Mairead. “It makes me wonder why you ever wanted to leave.”

  He looked at her, her face shining in the reflected glow of the fire. He could not tell her the real reason because he was still ashamed of it, even after nearly three years, so he said, “It wasn’t all good. I was lucky in the last couple of years because I stayed with a wealthy family. Life was easy and food plentiful. But in Rome, the rich are very rich and the poor are so poor they have to rely on the emperor handing out grain and money to keep them alive. Even a free man can live in fear because he has to do as his betters say. They are a mighty race, the Romans, but they live in fear all the time, even if they don’t realise it.”

  “What are they afraid of?” Castatin asked him. “I thought you said their armies ruled the whole world?”